


The Reckless Man and the Primo Ballerino

by Calliope_Soars



Series: In His Absence [1]
Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, One Shot, Tiny Mention of Mindy, mention of alcohol abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1361683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliope_Soars/pseuds/Calliope_Soars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny had nothing in common with his flawed father and nor did he want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reckless Man and the Primo Ballerino

**Author's Note:**

> **Music** : _Cavalier_ & _We Don’t Eat_ by James Vincent McMorow

  _If this is redemption, why do I bother at all?_

 

Unlike his father, Daniel Castellano was not a reckless man. He had nothing in common with that man whose tendency was to leap before looking. A careless man who never missed his cue for an exit. It was this talent that had kept Alan Castellano unharmed while he had managed to demolish everything around him without a second glance. As a first hand witness to this, Danny had learned to only make moves when it mattered and when they were true. His father’s disregard for others had made Danny a wary man, one whose loyalty was hard-won yet steadfast once you had gained it. However his father’s smiles were the easy flimsy kind, his life an effortless yet elaborate lie that held not substance. To the outside world the Castellanos had been a traditional and sturdy family unit, however this had been a well-crafted illusion birthed into the world by its patriarch.

  
In reality, Alan Castellano was uneasy in his own skin and yet somehow appearances still mattered. He did what was expected of him, or at least what he deemed to be the bare minimum - which was to be present. Alan was stern, bitter but he was still there. That was more than what Guiseppe Castellano had done for him when he was growing up. Unhappy with the cards life had dealt him, Alan was determined to make his family aware that he placed the blame at their feet. He was slowly turning into his own old man and he thoroughly resented them for putting him in that position. 

  
Alan viewed them as cinderblocks intent on sinking him and had begun to drink accordingly as he was certain he was poised to drown anyway. Not soon after, his drinking had turned from casual habit to a daily necessity. Alan started losing the occasional construction job here and there, until one day he stopped trying to find a new one to replace the last job he had lost.

  
He was there. He stayed. What more could they want from him?

  
His tyranny at home did not last long and soon he found himself adrift again. He was nothing like his old man; he had not beat his wife or kids, he had not cheated and fathered a whole other family one town over like his father had done. Nope, none of that…he’d simply left. Wasn’t that a million times better?

  
The older Castellano was cavalier about his escape in his own mind, it was another lifetime – another man. Alan did not view it as abandonment but as a way to end everyone’s suffering. The bottles of booze, his boys, his wife – all of it had become part of this other man’s life. All had been buried deep down in a shameful corner that he had trained himself to ignore quite quickly. Alan was a simple man, so when the inevitable guilt seeped through he thought only of the drowning sensation, how family had weighed him down and had caused his heart to tremble so fiercely against his ribcage.

  
He thought of his own father, how Guiseppe had reminded him of unyielding granite – hard and cold. Those cinderblocks had almost turned him hard and cold as well – a hard rock upon which to smash his family.

  
No, Alan Castellano would be light on his toes, he had jumped and would land safely…far far away from that other man’s past that made his stomach swirl with relentless remorse.  
  


Danny didn’t leap, he didn’t jump into things because he did not want to be like his father. You never knew where you would land, never knew whom you might hurt and take down along with you. It was not borne from fear though, Daniel Castellano was not afraid of getting some bruises. Life had always been rough with him and he could bear it all. Danny just did not want to be the cause of anyone else’s bruises. He simply thought things through, preferred to be silent than to speak out of turn. It was better to wait, to watch, to see what presented itself than to take a risk that great. After all, Danny had become the man of the house at the age of 7. He had people depending on him, and the time for childish carelessness was behind him for good.

  
Danny wasn’t perfect. Fine, maybe he had a temper. Maybe he was firm about certain things in his life but change was not an idle venture without consequence and he did not want to rock the boat that was so unsteady to begin with. The dissolution of his marriage was the first thing he hadn’t been able to control. Danny had clung onto the ledge by his fingertips but it didn’t take long before he realised that he was the only one still clinging onto this thing. Perhaps he had been thoughtless with Christina, but that had nothing to do with Alan Castellano. Absolutely nothing to do with this man, from whom he had only inherited a last name and perhaps his colouring.

   
“I just don’t want you to regret this decision, years down the line.”

   
Richie’s words hung heavy in the air, lingered in his head long after they had hung up. Somehow they had crept out of a toxic situation and their relationship had transitioned into something beyond siblings. It was some undefined delicate level of co-dependency where they kept the other upright when knees began to buckle. Richie and Danny constantly switched from son to father and back again until it had somehow morphed into a unique bond entirely their own. Perhaps he should thank their father for walking out as it had made them a unit unlike any other.

   
Their father…Danny silently swallowed the word as if it were bile rising up. It was easier to think of him as a sperm donor, a bastard who wasn’t a real person but a shadowy figure he only vaguely remembered. Except he remembered. He thought that was what hurt the most – how his stupid brain wouldn’t let him forget. The bad things were easy to recollect, helpful to keep his anger charged at all times and remind him of the kind of man he shouldn’t be. It brought back memories of his mother crying and how he couldn’t stand to see any woman cry to this very day.

   
Danny was angry that he remembered the good moments too. He remembered the times before the drinking, when the Castellanos were more than a dysfunctional mirage. There was a time – however brief - when Alan Castellano was generous in his affections. He had resembled a father then, or what Danny imagined a father would be until his world had become distorted and left a lingering taste of disappointment in his mouth.

 

* * *

   
 _“Way to go Danny!”_

  
_Danny blushed hard but managed to keep to the routine as the music swelled up and seemed to push against his frame. With strong purpose he had leapt up into the air only to land gracefully onto the stage again, yet still Danny did not dare look up. He knew his father would be the only parent standing up in the audience. It was a sight he should be used to by now, as his father was known to treat ballet as if it were baseball. When Danny’s eyes did glance over mid-spin, he saw that Alan Castellano was actually fist pumping the air over the pirouette while giving boisterous encouragements to keep going. He may have pushed a few extra spins in just to hear his father laugh proudly. The applause was loud, but Alan’s ‘That’s my boy’ could be clearly heard over its roar. Danny’s lips ticked up easily at the words._  
  


* * *

 

Yeah, he would call Alan.

   
Danny gripped the phone and felt it slide in his sweaty palm a little. He took another swig of his bottle and hated himself for needing this type of courage to see him through.

   
After the call he’d thrown the glass bottle of alcohol against the dresser hard. The sound of it shattering only made him feel even more like a dumb little kid. Somehow Danny had hoped hearing his voice would finally let him know where the scale of good versus bad memories of Alan Castellano had tipped. He wished he could switch places with Richie, be ignorant of their past and hopeful instead of bitter. He wished he hadn’t called. He wished he’d said more, said less, said something different altogether.

   
His fingers dialled her number with ease, his voice cracking right before the beep sounded. She didn’t answer – he left a voicemail anyway because even the thought of her settled him somehow.

   
Alan’s voice had brought back a memory alright. Daniel Castellano, fearless primo ballerino. If he had to pick, he would say he missed the sound most. The soft rhythmic scuff of his dance shoe on the smooth stage floor as he pushed his foot down just so, keeping a punishing momentum in his spins. His breaths were quick and clever because he knew the leap was next and he had to hit it just right. No pause, no pondering, just daring. That is who he had been before his childhood had imploded, brave little Danny the dancer.

  
Sick to his stomach and exhilarated all at once, as if he’d done endless pirouettes in front of a crowd, Daniel Castellano leapt for the first time in decades…and now who knew what would happen.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of Danny Castellano feels. I started this back when The Desert aired but couldn't get it right - until apparently 3 AM last night. Ah my Muse is a fickle bitch. 
> 
> The song lyric at the start of the fic is from James Vincent McMorrow's _We Don't Eat_. I would also suggest listening to his _Cavalier_ as both songs helped me write this. 
> 
> Thanks to [alittlenutjob](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlenutjob) for being a wonderful and sharp eyed beta & telling me to write more.


End file.
